


Pain and Pleasure

by jeromevaleska



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Anal Play, BDSM, Belts, Bondage, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 06:43:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17279012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeromevaleska/pseuds/jeromevaleska
Summary: You wait for Michael in his room, needing the pain and the pleasure he was oh so kind to give you. Takes place at Outpost 3.





	Pain and Pleasure

The bed sheets were cool against your hands and knees and you shifted slightly to get a little more comfortable as you waited. The position should be degrading, humiliating, and yet your body was buzzing with arousal and the thrill of what was to come. Of course Michael knows. He knew you needed this, knew how much you wanted it, wanted him. 

You rolled your shoulders to alleviate the tension that had been building throughout the day. The briefings have been especially infuriating recently. You did just fine before without constantly reporting every minor detail of every single day. 

You closed your eyes and instead focused on Michael quietly moving in the other room. Your heart instantly started to beat faster, thinking of how he could always make you feel better, especially after long days like today. All he had to do tonight was see you walk into his room much later than you two had planned, to recognize the stress and exasperation written all over you. 

How easy it has become for him to fall into the dominant role he inhabits in the bedroom. Thinking about his features becoming stern, his hand firm on your chin, making your breasts feel tight and your nipples harden. His voice still echoed in your head. "My, my, what would Ms. Venable think if she knew you were begging for me to take you all day like a wanton slut? Now strip." 

Heat traveled down to your stomach at the memory of his command. 

When you undress for him, no matter the circumstances, he always looks at you like you were the only thing worth seeing. He instantly makes you feel desired and wipes away all self-doubt. Just like tonight, when you dropped your clothing right in the center of the room while he watched your movements, followed the reveal of every new patch of skin with intense focus. 

His next words made you swallow hard, and you doubted they would ever lose that effect on you. "Get on the bed on all fours. Wait for me. Don't touch yourself." 

Hearing his rough tone directed at you, sends a shiver down your back every time. 

Being here now, in the bedroom you two shared more often than not, you could feel the moisture pooling between your thighs. You adjusted your position again, anxious for him to touch you, scratch you, bite you, spank you, anything he has in mind. There was a time when this need for him was embarrassing, when you were ashamed to want him so much, but not anymore. Now you enjoyed the anticipation and his reaction when you let go of your inhibitions. 

Finally, you heard him entering the room and when he stepped up to the bed, you bit your lip at the sight. He was barefoot and shirtless, exposing his solid form. The lights were low, making him look imposing, maybe even threatening. His face was rigid, his eyes setting fire to your bare skin. Arching your back was almost a reflex and his lips curved up in response. You felt something being placed on the bed at your feet, but you couldn't make out what it was. 

"One of these days I should make you see yourself like this," Michael said. His voice was low but steady and could almost pass for dispassionate. Just his presence so close to you sped up your pulse further. 

"You look so desperate, bent over, jutting out your ass, begging to be fucked."

A low moan slipped from your lips. He saved his crude words for moments like these, when you were focused on nothing but him, when their blatant truth replaces everything else on your mind, reducing you to exposed nerves and liquid desire. 

His arms were crossed, like he was examining you for purchase. 

"You just can't wait for me to stretch you open and fill you up, until you're squirming and writhing, until you're nothing but a pathetic, pleading mess." 

The picture he painted kindled the heat inside of you and you swayed slightly, your thighs firmly pressing together in the delusive attempt to find some release. You fought the urge to shut your eyes because you didn't want to completely give in just yet. 

One of his strong hands landed on your lower back, not with the sharp sting you hungered for, but softly and even hotter than your own skin. Nevertheless, your muscles were taut, craving the pain he promised. 

You could hear his smirk when he spoke. "So tense. Let's see if I can help with that."

His hand slowly glided over your ass and then his fingers dipped low towards your folds. You instantly spread your legs to give him better access and he hummed appreciatively. 

"We haven't even started and you're already wet." 

He spread the moisture around, his fingers gliding everywhere except where you wanted him most. 

"You've been so patient, waiting for me. I almost take pity on you," Michael drawled. 

His fingers maintained their light movements, back and forth in that slow and infuriating rhythm.

You couldn't help it, so you pushed back against him, not caring that you were already desperate for release. 

Not surprisingly, his tone was mocking. "So needy. Do you really think you deserve to come already?" 

Damn him and his honeyed voice and thick, long fingers, and damn him for knowing exactly how to drive you insane with want and need. 

You had to actively unclench your jaw to speak and you sounded rough and strained. "Please." 

His fingers continued their maddening administrations, gliding over you in soft circles, and you knew he was missing your clit intentionally. 

"Please what?" Michael asked. 

You breathed out a sigh of frustration. 

"Please. Please let me come," you pleaded. 

"Don't worry. I will." 

He slipped one finger inside you and the slight stretch may not have been as much as you wanted but you took it if he'll only let you climax. You rocked back and forth against him, and a whimper escaped your throat. 

But then he spoke up again. "Just not yet." 

Almost instantly his fingers disappeared from you, and you protested loudly, your head dropping to the sheets in frustration. 

"Oh angel. You didn't think it'd be that easy, did you?" he said, taunting you. 

You couldn't reply, too focused on the climax that you had just been denied. Suddenly his slick fingers were back, gliding between the cleft of your ass, rubbing over the puckered ring of muscle. He massaged you gently, bringing your arousal back easily, and then he carefully slid a finger inside and the familiar pressure made you groan into the mattress. 

He moved his finger slowly in and out, pressing it a little deeper each time. 

"You've got such a perfect ass. I should know, I have spent enough time staring at it," Michael whispered in a husky tone. 

He pulled his finger almost out entirely and just when you prepared for the impending feeling of emptiness, he added a second digit and pushed back in. You panted, your fists twisting into the sheets and he just kept talking calmly, like he wasn't finger-fucking your ass. 

"It's so round and plump and soft like silk, like it was made just for me, to use and abuse however I see fit. I would stare and then later in my room I’d jerk off thinking about what I’d like to do to you. If I had known how much you enjoy this, I would have never been able to focus on anything else.” 

You moaned, knowing all too well what he looked like fisting his thick cock. It was such a thrill to watch his practiced movements, the twitch of his thighs and abs just before he climaxes. The memory sent a fresh wave of moisture between your legs and you raised your shoulders and rocked your hips into the movements of his fingers. You arched your back a little more, incoherent words escaping your throat at the increased pressure, feeling the coil deep inside you tensing further. 

Once more he withdrew his fingers in the last moment and this time you cried out in a voice you barely recognized as your own. He chuckled in reply and then you felt something cool and slick pressing against your muscle, and before you had fully recovered from your denied orgasm, he slid a plug inside of you, stretching you until it fell into place. 

In the moment Michael gave you to calm yourself, resting your forehead against your shaking arms, wiping at the perspiration, you heard him move away from the bed and then he was standing at your side again, something dangling from his hands. You swallowed down the flutter of anticipation and your eyes widened when you saw that it was a belt he was holding. 

He knelt next to the bed, bringing his face level with yours. For a moment, his dominant mask cracked and care flickered in his eyes. He pushed aside the hair plastered to your damp skin, and you gave him a smile and a nod. He easily slipped back into his role, as if a darkness descended on his features, and he stood again. 

He has never used anything but his hands before, and while that had been a thrilling experience each time, the thought of the leather and the possible rise in intensity was making your muscles tighten in anticipation. Your back, glutes, and thighs were straining, awaiting the first unfamiliar contact, and the tension moved the plug teasingly.

The first contact your bare skin made with the cool leather was when he touched it lightly to your back, then ran it down to your thighs. When he lifted it, you held your breath, waiting for the pain, but nothing happened, just your heart beating loudly in your ears. You began to wonder if he had something else in mind when the first strike hits you sharply across your ass, and the sting raced through you, forcing the breath from your lungs.

Before you could replenish the oxygen, he hits you twice more in quick succession, moving down your thighs. The pain seared through you, bright and hot, all the way to your hairline and down to your toes until it caused a new gush of liquid between your legs. Your breath was ragged, spasms running along your flushed skin, not sure where the following blow would strike. Still, you were unprepared for the slap across your calves, the shock making you gasp.

You were so alert, trying your hardest to sense his next movement, that he startled you when he asked, "Would you like more?" 

Your voice was rough when you answered, "Yes. Please." 

You braced yourself, and the next blow hits the top of your thighs just right, so you felt it against your slick cunt and the pain was even sharper, like fire racing along your nerves. You fell forward and a sob escaped you. 

"Please, please more," you begged. 

When he replied with two more sharp cracks of the belt against your buttocks, you cried out in a mixture of pain and ecstasy, not caring how frantic you sounded. The clench around the toy inside of you only added to the mixture of discomfort and pleasure, serving as a cruel reminder of how much you needed him inside your throbbing heat. 

He spoke again, his words swimming through your lust-clouded brain. "I wish Ms. Venable could see you like this, begging to be spanked across your prim, plugged ass. It's a sight to be seen."

He slowly traced his fingers over your stinging flesh, along your hips, down your stomach. 

"What do you think she'd have to say? Think she'd approve to watch you fraternize with a man such as myself?" 

Suddenly his fingers were at your cunt, probing you, spreading your juices over your swollen flesh and you whimpered at the contact. 

He bent close to your ear, voice low and sharp. "Is that what has you dripping? Do you want someone to watch us? What a way to make our relationship official, showing everyone how you get off on being treated like a bitch in heat." 

He shoved a finger inside of you and you groaned as the first sting was quickly replaced with pleasure surging through you. You moved your hips against him, the doubled pressure of being filled radiating through your veins, sending your mind spiraling through the bliss of the impending orgasm. 

The force of the belt hitting you again pushed you forward, against his fingers, and a noise between a cry and a sob left your lips. You lost all sense of the present, floating in the searing pain of the belt hitting you across your ass, striking your exposed labia, cracking against your thighs and calves. The pain blossomed, grew, sent needles through you, making you cramp and convulse. Your muscles clenched around his fingers and the plug, twisting your insides with imminent release. 

Incoherent strings of "yes" and "please" and "don't stop" fell from your lips, and just when you thought you couldn't take any more, the belt smacked you with another loud crack and light burst inside you, your constricting abdomen lifting your knees off the bed as spasms raced through you. 

When you came back down, his fingers moved slowly, carefully, just enough to make you twitch. You were leaning into him, his erection pressing against your hip. Your head was hanging between your arms, the muscles shaking with the effort to hold up your body. 

Then his fingers slid from you and you whined at the loss of contact. 

You barely had time to catch your breath before he moved again. You heard the rustle of fabric and when you turned your head he was at your side, entirely naked, his large erection jutting out in front of you. You stared at it, mesmerized, hungry, and you bit your lip. 

He fisted himself with slow, deliberate strokes, and you whimpered at the sight. 

"I don't know if I should finish down your throat or fuck your cunt." 

You didn't care. You wanted him. Any way he saw fit, any way to feel him climax. When he slid his thumb across his leaking tip, you craved nothing more than to taste him, feel him take advantage of any part of you he wished. 

"Put your arms behind your back." 

It took a little bit of shuffling on unsteady knees until you have raised yourself and put your arms on your back. You were completely exposed to him, breasts pushed out, nipples turned into achingly neglected peaks. You clenched around the plug and felt the pulsing return to your folds. 

Michael looped the belt around your lower arms and then you shifted until you were facing him, your eyes level with his broad chest. You couldn't stop yourself and pressed your lips to his firm skin, tasting him, inhaling him, needing him with all your senses. 

"If you want to use that mouth, there is a better place for it," Michael murmured. 

With that he took a step back and pushed your torso down until you were finally able to suck his hard length between your lips. His answering hiss went straight to your core, and even though your muscles were stretched, as your torso was supported by the belt around your arms, you barely noticed any discomfort, too focused on the velvety feel of him against your tongue. 

You were entirely at his mercy, unable to move more than your head and he rocked inside your mouth. You tried your best to suck him in deeply, run your tongue over the hard ridges and veins. The angle was making it difficult for you to take him in fully, and he was only thrusting lightly back and forth. You knew he was holding back. 

"Yes... I love fucking that hot mouth of yours," his voice was strained and it spurred you on. 

You sucked more forcefully, tightening your lips around him, taking in as much of him as you could. Your tongue was pressed against the underside of his cock, moving rhythmically. His thrusts sped up and you took them hungrily, humming in the back of your throat. 

“Impatient minx.”

With a groan he pulled away, saliva dripping from you, his breathing heavy. 

The next thing you knew, he was guiding you back to sit on your heels, deepening the feel of the plug once more. He loosened the leather around your wrists and his warm hands rubbed along the strained muscles, relieving the ache. The reprise was short however. 

“I have to be inside of you. Now. Turn around.”

You almost wept with joy of finally getting to feel him and do as you were told, pressing your ass against his erection still wet with your saliva. The heavy feel of it against your tortured skin was so damn good and you sighed loudly. 

He leaned forward and then the belt was looped around your throat. You lowered your head to protect your windpipe and a thrill rushed down your body from the pressure against your veins and his hot length trapped between your bodies. The waves crest at your center, pushing you closer to the edge again. 

And then finally, blissfully, his thick member was pressing into you, slowly past the obstruction of the plug. You braced yourself, taking deep breaths as he filled you, stretched you painfully until the dull ache was replaced by nothing but pleasure as your body adjusted to him. When you were flush against his groin, he grunted. 

"Fuck, you are tight." 

Then he pulled on the leather around your neck, only lightly at first so you leaned into it, seeking that perfect feeling of surrender. He tightened his grip on the belt, his other hand holding your hip, burning against the welts left behind. His nails bit into your skin and you hissed at the contrasting sensations. 

Then he slammed into you, and you leaned your head forward, pressing yourself against the leather. He pulled back out, increasing his rhythm, giving you less time to recuperate between strokes. 

“Mine.”

The words sent flames licking across your skin.

“You are mine to use, mine to hurt and control.”

You moaned loudly against the pressure of the belt, the noise sounding frenzied, and pressed yourself back harder into his thrusts at the same time. The hindered flow of oxygen made you light headed, and you felt as if you were swimming in a sea of pleasure and pain, where they were one, working as a unified force that lapped against your clit over and over. 

“Use your fingers. Show me how desperate you are," he commanded roughly.

You leaned down on one arm, changing the angle of his thrusts and you felt him even deeper, even more forcefully. He released the belt to grab both of your hips, moving your body against his. You reached between your legs, to your swollen lips parted around his pounding shaft. It seemed obscene to feel each other joined like this, him gliding against your fingers, your juices producing squelching sounds that mixed with the slap of skin on skin and your groans. 

He was ramming into you, shaking your body and the bed, and it just took a few light circles against your clit and your toes were curling, as you howled into the sheets, coming undone with hot explosions bursting in your veins. 

Before you could fully recover, he pulled himself from your still quivering channel. The loss of him almost hurts and you whimpered. He slapped your ass in reply. 

"I need to see you when I come." 

And then he was stretched out on the bed, pulling your weak and spent body on top of his. The belt tied your wrists once more behind your back and then he forcefully guided himself back inside of you with one long push. You found yourself incapable of moving of your own accord as he held the leather that trapped your wrists, and then he fucked into you, hard, relentless, and you were lost. His thrusts were rapid, galaxies spiraled behind your eyes, the pleasure of the dual penetration so intense you felt removed from reality, drifting on this crest of the intense sensations. 

His words, pressed past his strained jaw, brought you back to him. "So good, I love your greedy cunt, gripping my cock." 

You moaned and sobbed until he bucked up into you, so hard you were lifted off the bed, and then you felt him erupting inside of you with a guttural cry. 

You two were suspended in time, neither of you were able to move, just working hard to control your breathing, to find your way back down. 

His fingers released your hips, let go of the leather around your wrists, freeing them. Then his hands were sliding softly over your back, kneading your arms, up to your shoulders, along your sides, meticulously covering every inch of you. You sighed and your head sunk against his chest heavily, relishing his loving touch while still feeling the aftermath of your shared climax pulsing between you two. 

He pushed your hair aside and kissed your forehead before he whispered to you softly, "I am going to clean up. Will you be okay on your own for a minute?" 

You just nodded, twisting your head enough to catch his warm eyes. 

When you pulled himself from you, you groaned at the loss, and then he was guiding you to lie on the bed. Your body was still not yours to control so you came to rest on your stomach, feeling entirely boneless, the sheets cool against your slick skin. He slowly and carefully extracted the plug and you sunk even lower into the pillows, enjoying the stretch of your spine and focus on your breathing and heartbeat returning to normal. 

You could hear Michael leave to another room and then he stepped back out. He placed a cool, wet towel against your battered behind, soothing the ache, gently wiping you clean. You hissed when his fingers lightly traced the welts. 

You reached back to feel the damage. It didn't seem like anything you haven't experienced before, and part of you hoped for bruises to distract you from whatever mundane events tomorrow may hold. So you blindly reached for his hand, lightly grasping his fingers. 

“I’m fine. Lie with me for a little bit?” you asked softly. 

You two easily found your way under the sheets, chest to chest, his arms wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth, your cheek against his skin and his breath in your hair.

**Author's Note:**

> the michael langdon thirst is real. i don't think i will ever be able to get over this man. also my man deserved better. and as always, i'm a slut for feedback. ;)


End file.
